Stephen Vincent Benét

“ And a whiff of anger whitened the broken plaster,
“Her eyes were too big!” cried a smell with paws like a mole.
“She was slinky,” the pinks spoke. “Thin,” creaked a broken castor.
“She was greedy. She never loved him. She powdered her nose.”
Pale-calm as a specter’s gem in the shadow-playtime,
The ghost of the perfume hid in her hair arose
And shook dark wealth from its robes and possessed the daytime.
Like a scented tree of Egypt it burgeoned above,
For a space of quiet like myrrh, for the flash of a feather....
They were still, who had seen the dead, happy face of Love ... ”

“ Often, and especially when he had thought about her intensely for a long time, the picture would not come at all or come with tantalizing incompleteness, apparently because he wanted it to be whole so much—all he could see would be a wraith of Nancy, wooden as a formal photograph, with none of her silences or mockeries about her till he felt like a painter who has somehow let the devil into his paintbox so that each stroke he makes goes a little fatally out of true from the vision in his mind till the canvas is only a crazy-quilt of reds and yellows. ”

“ To lap a girl's limbs up like wine, And laugh, knowing the end!" Only, like low, still breathing, I heard one voice, one word; And hot speech poured upon my lips, As my hands held a sword. "Fools, thrice fools of lust!" I cried, "Your eyes are blind to see Eternal beauty, moving far, More glorious than horns of war! But though my eyes were one blind scar, That sight is shown to me! "You nuzzle at the ivory side, You clasp the golden head; Fools, fools, who chatter and sing, You have taken the sign of a terrible thing, You have drunk down God with your beeswing, And broken the saints for bread! ”

“ Death comes like a glimpse of thin blue sky through the fog of fight,
And the trident-flame of the mind fails, and the soul drinks night.
But on shores unknown it arises! it is white of its ancient scars.
Arrayed with stars as a garment, beneath night’s thick stars!
And now I must have died I think—and had this grace,
To look with new eyes for a moment, and to see one face
That fills my heart like a feasting where mailed kings break bread,
You are kind as a poor man’s alms, Lord, if I take this to the dead! ”

“ From a thousand sources now the clamor arose—press, police, and public alike crying out for the capture of the master criminal of a century—lost voices hounding a specter down the alleyways of the wind. And still the meshes broke and the quarry slipped away before the hounds were well on the scent—leaving behind a trail of shattered safes and rifled jewel cases—while ever the clamor rose higher to “Get him—get him—get—”
Get whom, in God’s name—get what? Beast, man, or devil? A specter—a flying shadow—the shadow of a Bat. ”

“ Again the kiss but this time their lips only hurt against each other—Oliver feels for a ghastly instant as if he were kissing Nancy after she had died. It seems to him that everything in him has made itself into a question as discordant and unanswered as the tearing cry of a puppy baying the moon, struck out of his senses by that swimming round silver above him, ineffably lustrous, ineffably removed, none of it ever coming to touch him but light too pale to help at all. ”

“ All the unconscious note of command that long-inherited wealth and the pride of a great name can give was in her voice, and the detective, for the moment, bowed before it, defeated. Perhaps he thought of men who had been broken from the Force for injudicious arrests, perhaps he merely bided his time. At any rate, he gave up his grilling of Dale for the present and turned to question the Doctor and Beresford who had just returned, with Jack Bailey, from their grim task of placing Fleming’s body in a temporary resting place in the library. ”

“ The hills open To show a slope of poppies, Ardent, noble, heroic, A flare, a great flame of orange; Giving sleepy, brittle scent That stings the lungs. A creeping wind slips through them like a ferret; they bow and dance, answering Beauty's voice... The horse whinnies. I dismount And tie him to the grey worn fence. I set myself against the javelins of grass and sun; And climb the rounded breast, That flows like a sea-wave. The summit crackles with heat, there is no shelter, no hollow from the flagellating glare. I lie down and look at the sky, shading my eyes. ”

“ Like the milk-white body of Truth asleep in her naked hair,
And the blood and strength of the Earth arose to our dazzling eyes!
Quiet, quiet and quiet, said the march of the wave beneath.
Oh, immaculate shone the mind while the lotos of silence grew!
And the sore heart heavy with youth was a clean blade straight in its sheath,
As we drank with a matchless dream in that chrism of salt and dew!
Death jams down on his spade in the bloom of our elvish orchard,
Even the root-curls crawl at the skeleton jokes he cracks;
Let’s make rhymes for a while, as our Youth goes out to be tortured! ”

“ Nancy—and especially the loss of her—had made him sensitive as a skinless man to the winds and vagaries of other young people in love—and while Ted could look at and talk with Elinor Piper and think himself as safe as a turtle under its shell from the observations and discoveries of the rest of the party he could no more hide himself or his intentions from Oliver's painful scrutiny than he could have hidden the fact that he had suddenly turned bright green. ”

“ She tiptoed to the main door of the living-room and closed it cautiously, smiling as she did so. Lizzie might be about and Lizzie would promptly go into hysterics if she got an inkling of her mistress’s present intentions. Then she went to the city telephone and asked for long distance.
When she had finished her telephoning, she looked at once relieved and a little naughty—like a demure child who has carried out some piece of innocent mischief unobserved. “My stars!” she muttered to herself. “You never can tell what you can do till you try.” ”

“ Is it a shadow? One might think so indeed, save for the calm face, yellow as wax, that lifts like the face of a drowned man from the choking darkness. II. Out of the drowsy fog my body creeps back to me. It is the white time before dawn. Moonlight, watery, pellucid, lifeless, ripples over the world. The grass beneath it is gray; the stars pale in the sky. The night dew has fallen; An infinity of little drops, crystals from which all light has been taken, Glint on the sighing branches. All is purity, without color, without stir, without passion. Suddenly a peacock screams. ”

“ Nancy had said or hadn't denied that she wasn't sure she loved him any more. He had released her from the engagement and told her good-by. He stared at the facts—they sprang up in front of him like choking thorns—thorns he had to clear away with his hands before he could even touch Nancy again. Was he sure—even now? All the airiness dropped from him like a clown's false face. As he thought of what would happen if Nancy had really meant it about not loving him, it seemed to him that somebody had taken away the pit of his stomach and left nothing in its place but air. ”

“ The lips of courage, the eyes of truth, and the body of ecstasy, Eros, Lord!
Grant that their years like rocketing gems of a necklace snapped at the throat of a priest,
56Differ from each by the color and shape, but in ardor and excellence none are least!
Loose on them Trouble and Pain, swift leopards, to be taught and tamed by their crystal wills!
Fling to them mountains to overcome that their feet may be glad on the necks of the hills!
Every immortal must put on dust at a time all know or he is not God,
These shall take seizin of Death together, the dream shall break in the crumbling sod. ”

“ When Billy returned with the front door key she was as impassive as he was.
“Has the new gardener come yet?”
“He here,” said Billy stolidly. “Name Brook.”
She was entirely herself once more when Billy, departing, held the door open wide—to admit Miss Cornelia Van Gorder and a tall, strong-featured man, quietly dressed, with reticent, piercing eyes—the detective!
Dale’s first conscious emotion was one of complete surprise. She had expected a heavy-set, blue-jowled vulgarian with a black cigar, a battered derby, and stubby policeman’s shoes. Why this man’s a gentleman! she thought. ”

“ A dim desire, of pleasant places, And lush fields in the summer sun, And logs aflame, and walls, and faces, — And wine, and old ambrosial talk, A golden ball in fountains dancing, And unforgotten hands. (Ah, God, I trod them down where I have trod, And they remain, and they remain, Etched in unutterable pain, Loved lips and faces now apart, That once were closer than my heart — In agony, in agony, And horribly a part of me.... For Lethe is for no man set, And in Hell may no man forget.) ”

“ But finally:
“Dearest, dearest, what was the grand news?” says Oliver half-drowsily. “We must talk it over, dear, I suppose, I guess, oh, we must—oh, but you're so sweet—” and he relapses again into speechlessness.
They are close together, he and she now. Their lips meet—and meet—with a sweet touch—with a long pressure—children being good to each other—cloud mingling with gleaming cloud.
“Ollie dear.” Nancy's voice comes from somewhere as far away and still as if she were talking out of a star. “Stop kissing me. I can't think when you kiss me, I can only feel you be close. ”

“ A murmur of excited voices sounded from the hall. The door flew open, feet stumbled through the darkness—“The noise came from this room!” that was Anderson’s voice—“Holy Virgin!” that must be Lizzie—
Even as Dale turned to face the assembled household, the house lights, extinguished since the storm, came on in full brilliance—revealing her to them, standing beside Fleming’s body with Miss Cornelia’s revolver between them.
She shuddered, seeing Fleming’s arm flung out awkwardly by his side. No living man could lie in such a posture. ”

“ The Quality of Courage Black trees against an orange sky, Trees that the wind shook terribly, Like a harsh spume along the road, Quavering up like withered arms, Writhing like streams, like twisted charms Of hot lead flung in snow. Below The iron ice stung like a goad, Slashing the torn shoes from my feet, And all the air was bitter sleet. And all the land was cramped with snow, Steel-strong and fierce and glimmering wan, Like pale plains of obsidian. — And yet I strove — and I was fire And ice — and fire and ice were one In one vast hunger of desire. ”

“ All up to and through Labor Day Oliver bluffed and manoeuvered like the head of a small but vicious Balkan State in an International Congress for Ted and Elinor, and towards tea-time, decided sardonically that it was quite time his adopted infants took any further responsibilities off his shoulders. There was no use delaying conclusions any longer—Oliver felt as he looked at his victims like a workmanlike god who simply must finish the rough draft of the particular world he is fussing with before sunset, in spite of all rebellious or slipshod qualities in its clay. ”

“ A fixture in the Van Gorder household since her sixteenth year, she had long ere now attained the dignity of a Tradition. The slip of a colleen fresh from Kerry had grown old with her mistress, until the casual bond between mistress and servant had changed into something deeper; more in keeping with a better-mannered age than ours. One could not imagine Miss Cornelia without a Lizzie to grumble at and cherish—or Lizzie without a Miss Cornelia to baby and scold with the privileged frankness of such old family servitors. ”

“ And Hawk laughs loud as the corpse is thrown, "The hemp that shall hang me is not grown!" Sir Henry's face is iron to mark, And he gazes ever in the dark. And the days pass, and the weeks pass, And the world is as it always was. But down by the marsh the sickles beam, Glitter on glitter, gleam on gleam, And the hemp falls down by the stagnant stream. And Hawk beats up from the Caribbees, Swooping to pounce in the Northern seas. Sir Henry sits sunk deep in his chair, And white as his hand is grown his hair. ”

“ All that Oliver wants to do is to hold her and be quiet—to make out of the stuffy room, the nervous rushing of noise under the window, the air exhausted with heat, a place in some measure peaceful, in some measure retired, where they can lie under lucent peace for a moment as shells lie in clear water and not be worried about anything any more. ”

“ Their great vans beat the cloven air, like eagles they mount up, Motes in the wine of morning, specks in a crystal cup, And lest his wings should melt apace old Daedalus flies low, But Icarus beats up, beats up, he goes where lightnings go. He cares no more for warnings, he rushes through the sky, Braving the crags of ether, daring the gods on high, Black 'gainst the crimson sunset, golden o'er cloudy snows, With all Adventure in his heart the first winged man arose. ”

“ For a moment Dick Fleming stared at her as if he could not believe his ears. Then, slowly, his expression changed. Beneath the well-fed, debonair mask of the clubman about town, other lines appeared—lines of avarice and calculation—wolf-marks, betokening the craft and petty ruthlessness of the small soul within the gentlemanly shell. His eyes took on a shifty, uncertain stare—they no longer looked at Dale—their gaze seemed turned inward, beholding a visioned treasure, a glittering pile of gold. ”

“ Very soon when the fatter black soldier on the clock-face has only hitched himself along a little, it will be over her head and the roving Nancy, the sparkling Nancy, the Nancy that fell in love will be under it like a calm body, never to rise or run or be kissed with light seeking kisses on the soft of her throat again. There will only be a dignified Nancy, a sensible Nancy, a Nancy going to Paris to study and be successful, a Nancy who, sooner or later will marry “Some good, clean man.” ”

“ The one good sword for a freeman, While yet the cold stars stand!" Their shouts rolled to the rafters, The air was thick with wine. I only knew her deep eyes, And felt her hand in mine. Softly as quiet water, One finger touched my cheek; Her face like gracious moonlight — I might not move nor speak. I only saw that beauty, I only felt that form There, in the silken darkness — God wot my heart was warm! Their shouts rolled to the rafters, Another chief began; His slit lips showed him for a Hun; He was an evil man. "Sing to the joys of women!" ”

“ A little later, in a quiet corner of the porch with the tea-steam floating pleasantly from the silver nose of its pot and a decorous scarlet and yellow still-life of muffins and jam between them, Oliver felt that so far things had slid along as well as could be expected. Elinor's manners in the first place and her genuine liking for him in the second had come to his help as he knew they would—she was too concerned now with trying to comfort him in small unobtrusive ways to be on her guard herself about her own troubles. ”

“ And all around Are devils. One can laugh... but that hunched shape The face one stone, like those Assyrian kings! One sees in carvings, watching men flayed red Horribly laughable in leaps and writhes; That face — utterly evil, clouded round With evil like a smoke — it turns smiles sour! ... And Nero there, the flabby cheeks astrain And sweating agony... long agony... Imperishable, unappeasable For ever... well... it droops the mouth. Till I Look up. There's one blue patch no smoke dares touch. Sky, clear, ineffable, alive with light, Always the same... ”

“ Oh, bed! and he falls into it as if he were diving into butter and though he murmurs “Nancy” once to himself before his head sinks into pillows, in two seconds he is drugged with such utter slumber that it is only the blind stupefied face of a man under ether that he is able to lift from his haven when Ted comes in half an hour later and announces, in the voice of one proclaiming a new revelation, that Elinor is the finest person that ever lived and that everything is most wholly and completely all right. ”

“ Miss Cornelia rapidly revised her first impressions of the stranger. When he had first fallen through the doorway into Beresford’s arms she had not known what to think. Now, in the brighter light of the living-room she saw that the still face, beneath its mask of dirt and dried blood, was strong and fairly youthful; if the man were a criminal, he belonged, like the Bat, to the upper fringes of the world of crime. ”

“ It may well be that the rebirth of poetry is to be manifest in a reappearance of the obvious, —in a love of the sea and of the beauty of clouds, in the adventure of death and the yet more amazing adventure of living, in a vital love of colour, whether of the Orient or the drug-shop, in childlike love of melody, and the cool cleansing of rain, in strange faces and old memories. ”

“ Only now he had a charm against what the firelight meant—what it had been meaning more and more these last few weeks with Rose Severance. It was not a very powerful-looking charm—a dozen lines of a letter from Elinor Piper asking him to come to Southampton, but it began “Dear Ted” and ended “Elinor” and he thought it would serve.
That ought to be enough—that small thing only magical from what you made it mean against what it really was—that wish that nobody could even nickname hope—to keep you cool against the waves of firelight that rose over you like the scent of a harvest meadow. ”

“ And out in the world people were murdering and robbing each other, floating over Niagara Falls in barrels, rescuing children from burning houses, taming tigers, going to Africa to hunt gorillas, doing all sorts of exciting things! She could not float over Niagara Falls in a barrel; Lizzie Allen, her faithful old maid, would never let her! She could not go to Africa to hunt gorillas; Sally Ogden, her sister, would never let her hear the last of it. She could not even, as she certainly would if she were a man, try and track down this terrible creature, the Bat! ”

“ The strength more sure than surety, The mercy that endures. "Then, though they give you to be burned, And slay you like a stoat, You have found the world's heart in the turn of a cheek, Heaven in the lift of a throat. "Although they break you on the wheel, That stood so straight in the sun, Behind you the trumpets split the sky, Where the lost and furious fight goes by — And God, our God, will have victory When the red day is done!" ”

“ Buses pass like big squares of honeycomb on wheels, crowded with pale, tired bees—the stars march slowly from the western slope to their light viewless pinnacle in the center of the heavens, walking brightly like strong men in silvered armor—the stars and the buses, the buses and the stars, either and both of as little and much account—it would not really surprise either Oliver or Nancy if the next green bus that passes should start climbing into the sky like a clumsy bird. ”

“ Miss Cornelia and Dale shrank back against the mantel. Bailey took up a post beside the window, the Unknown flattening himself against the wall beside him. There was a breathless pause.
The top of the extension ladder began to tremble. A black bulk stood clearly outlined against the diminishing red glow—the Bat, masked and sinister, on his last foray!
There was no sound as the killer stepped into the room. He waited for a second that seemed a year—still no sound. Then he turned cautiously toward the place where he had left the satchel—the beam of his flashlight picked it out. ”

“ I, I have praised thee, yet I do not know What moves my mind so strangely, save that once I lay all night upon a thymy hill, And watched the slow clouds pass like heaped-up foam Across blue marble, till at last no speck Blotted the clear expanse, and the full moon Rose in much light, and all night long I saw Her ordered progress, till, in midmost heaven, There came a terrible silence, and the mice Crept to their holes, the crickets did not chirp, All the small night-sounds stopped — and clear pure light Rippled like silk over the universe, Most cold and bleak ”

“ Ted and Oliver were down at the beach at Southampton two Sundays later—week-end guests of Peter Piper—the three had been classmates at Yale and the friendship had not lapsed like so many because Peter happened to be rich and Ted and Oliver poor. And then there was always Elinor, Peter's sister—Ted seemed, to Oliver's amused vision, at least, to be looking at Elinor with the hungry eyes of a man seeing a delicate, longed-for dream made flesh just at present instead of a girl he had known since she first put up her hair. ”

“ Some day the Bat would slip and falter; then they would have him. But the weeks passed into months and still the Bat flew free, solitary, untamed, and deadly. At last even his own kind turned upon him; the underworld is like the upper in its fear and distrust of genius that flies alone. But when they turned against him, they turned against a spook—a shadow. ”